


With A Fist

by TheBigBadWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Baker Street, Baker Street Academy, Blood, Doctor Who reference, F/F, Fighting, Fights, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Petting, Highschool AU, M/M, Oncoming Storm, Punk, Punk Greg, Punk Lestrade, References to Homophobia, Snogging, mystrade, references to frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigBadWolf/pseuds/TheBigBadWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregory Lestrade, resident punk at Baker Street Academy meets Mycroft Holmes. The only way to describe them is as two sides of the same coin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With A Lighter

**Author's Note:**

> Oh. My. God. I actually finished this. Whew, writing is hard. I had a lot of fun with this so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And to all those who enjoy this verse I very much suggest the fic Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti) by the lovely IBegToDreamAndDiffer!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/487063

“Gregory Lestrade you get down here this minute!” A very upset Ms. Lestrade was bustling about the kitchen, laying out breakfast. “I mean it young man!” Minutes later an extremely disheveled Greg stepped into the kitchen groaning, he would have rolled his eyes if we wasn’t busy trying to keep them open. Pursing her lips Anne Lestrade took in the sight of her son, he waited for her to bark out commands to tuck in his shirt, or to go comb his hair, or complain about why he can’t ever just fold his uniform properly so it wouldn’t wrinkle. When nothing came he looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. She shook her head and motioned for him to sit down. “Eat. You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon.” Doing as she said Greg was out the door fifteen minutes later revving up his bike.

When Greg made it into the school’s carpark he turned off his bike and sat for a moment, dreading the fact the he would soon have to sit through another horribly boring day of school. He was in the middle of a thought when a hand landed roughly on his should blade. Whipping around, he nearly fell off his bike. “Oi! What the hell?”

“Easy there, mate. It’s just me.” Nathan Dimmock was his name. “What’s wrong with you then?” He flashed one of his brilliant smiles and leaned against the car parked in the spot over. Greg, who had always been openly gay, took a moment to admire his friend. They had once gotten it on when Dimmock himself was trying to figure things out but nothing really progressed from there. That, however, didn’t stop Greg from the eyeing the boy up. “See something you like?” Dimmock caught him staring.

“You know the answer that.” Greg returned the sly smile and got off his bike, tucking his helmet under his arm. “Wanna go for a smoke Dim?” With his free hand Lestrade searched his jacket for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Yeah, I could go for one.” Pushing off the car he led the way to the corner behind the West Hall where all the smokers went and the teachers turned a blind eye. When they found a wall to lean against Lestrade lit one and passed the pack and lighter over to Dimmock.

“I don’t think I can take lessons this morning.” Greg sighed and blew out a few puffs of smoke; he had dropped his helmet at his feet and was kicking it around a bit.

“Skiving then?” Dimmock lit up and returned everything back to Greg.

“Yeah, you up to it?”

“Nah, if I miss one more English Lit lesson my Da is gonna come after me.” Dimmock groaned and dropped his head. “I don’t know how you do it!” Greg chuckled a bit.

“Do what?”

“Manage to skive class without getting caught and still keep your marks up? You’re an arse, you know that?” This time Greg busted out laughing.

“I’m just brilliant.” Lestrade had blocked the punch that Dimmock had thrown his way and both doubled over laughing.

“And what is our favorite couple up to this morning?” Sally Donovan had peeked around the corner, cigarette already in hand and gave them a smile.

“Like you have any room to talk! Rumor is your fucking around with that twat Anderson!” Greg pointed his finger out and nearly got his wrist broken when Sally grabbed his hand and twisted it. “Oi! Oi! Easy there tigress!” Greg all but howled in pain.

“Yeah that’s his wanking hand.” This time it was Dimmock’s turn to duck a punch. Sally laughed and all three settled against the wall. When Greg finished off his third cigarette the rest of the group had appeared, Michael Dinch and his tree cronies; as usual they all took to rough housing. Dimmock and Sally just stayed off to the side shaking their heads. Not a day went by that the five of them didn’t try and beat each other up, though Greg was always the one to come out on top. He wasn’t the tallest or broadest but no one crossed Greg Lestrade. King of the Punks was what Sally had called him.

“Say it Mike! Say it and I’ll let go.” Greg started laughing when he caught Dinch in a headlock.

“Fuck!” Michael grunted and tried to twist out of Lestrade’s iron grip. “Alright, alright. I’m the bitch! I’m the bitch!” Greg’s laugh only got louder as he let go and dropped to the ground.

“Christ mate, one day your gonna twist my head clean off!” Dinch cracked his neck then dug out a cigarette and lit it.

“Maybe one day you’ll learn not to fuck with me and I won’t have to!” He took a breath and leaned back. Dinch let out a puff of smoke and just shook his head.

“You lot going to Martin’s party Friday?” One of Dinch’s cronies spoke, Greg remembered his name being Chris. Before Lestrade could answer Dinch chimed in.

“Word is some St. Mary’s girls are gonna be there.” He gave a wink and took another drag.

“Just what Greg here is looking for!” Sally smiled and elbowed Dimmock in the side. “Nothing like a girl to get his blood boiling.” Dimmock started to laugh and Greg snorted.

“Yeah I’ll be there.” He turned back to Dinch and nodded. Before anything else could be said the bell rang; Dinch and his cronies were the first to walk off.

“I don’t understand why you talk to any of them mate. Not a brain between the four.” Dimmock loved starting this argument, mostly because he could win it.

“Don’t you have a lesson to run off to?” Greg laughed and Dimmock landed a punch on his arm then took off to the South end building. “You skiving Donovan?”

“I’ve got a date!” She pulled out her phone and checked the time.

“A date? It’s nine in the fucking morning!” Greg looked at her wide-eyed. “That Anderson of yours must really be some prick.”

“It’s not with Anderson you arse.” This time Lestrade’s eyebrows shot up. “Her name is Sarah.” She lifted her chin a bit when she said the girl’s name.

“Playing both sides of the table then?” Greg wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nudged her with his hip.

“Like you would know.” She patted his cheek and left, leaving him to whistle after her. Greg sat for a bit in the grass just enjoying the sun, his leather jacket and helmet beside him. He fell onto his back and put one hand on his chest while the other tugged at the piercing in his ear. Greg always pulled at his ear when he was thinking. He must have fallen asleep after a while because he was suddenly woken up by a group of guys laughing. Greg just adjusted his position and tried to tune it out.

“Hey! We were talking to you fag!” Greg shot up, his fists instantly balling up. He looked around for the arse who had said it. Lestrade would instantly knock out anyone who dared use that word around him, and if anyone called him ‘that’ he would make it his personal mission to send them to the hospital. Not seeing anybody, he got up and rounded the corner. The first thing he saw was a small kid with a head of messy black curls pushed up against the wall and a taller redhead blocking him from the group of punks surrounding them. They didn’t look related but Greg could tell they were; he had an odd sense about things like that. Lestrade thought that if looks could kill the four boys wouldn’t stand a chance against the brothers.

“Too good to speak?” The other boys snickered. “Faggot!” Greg ripped his eyes from the taller brother and eyed the four surrounding them, recognizing them instantly. His anger returning, he stormed over to them.

“Oi Greg! Come to join us?” Dinch laughed and his posse followed suit, Lestrade imagined exactly how he would beat each of them into the ground.

“Fuck off Mike.” Greg snarled and the Dinch’s boys froze.

“What’s your problem Lestrade?” Dinch looked confused.

“I said fuck off or I’ll rip each of you to shreds.” Greg took a step forward, positioning himself for a fight.

“What’s wrong with you mate?” Dinch stepped forward himself.

“I’m not your mate.” Greg growled and continued. “And I’ll make you pay for that comment.”

“What because I called him a faggot?” Dinch laughed. “That’s what the little prick is; of course me and the boys could probably beat it out of him.” Greg’s eyes widened. _Big mistake._ He thought to himself. In a matter of seconds Lestrade was on the pillar of a boy and had him pinned in the grass, determined to break his face. When one of his friends tried to pull Greg off of Dinch he shot up taking him out too. Within two minutes all four were down and bleeding profusely.

“Any of you ever say that fucking word again I’ll kill ya!” Greg’s chest was heaving and he looked almost manic. “In fact if I see any of you giving anybody shit I’ll make you remember just who you’ll have to deal with.” He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth and spit down into Dinch’s face. The four of them scrambled away cursing but Greg only smiled; he thought they looked like a pack of dogs running away with their tails between their legs. When Lestrade turned around all the adrenaline that had been coursing through him immediately evaporated. The mop of messy curls was bordering on giddy while his brother was boring a hole into Greg’s head. Lestrade absent mindedly began tugging on his piercing. He was the one who had to break the silence.

“You two alright then?” When neither of them answered he tugged harder at his ear. “Right well, if any of them give you trouble again just…..just let me know.” Lestrade moved to turn away when he noticed a monitor heading his way shouting at him. He looked to the brothers but they had already run off.

An hour later Greg sat in the headmaster’s office all but ripping his earring out. “You skip your lessons and then you beat four boys bloody!” Greg only tuned the shouting man out, never in his life had he been as interested in carpeting as he was that moment. It wasn’t until he had noticed silence that he realized he was alone in the office. Looking around he noticed the headmaster was just outside the door talking to someone, though he couldn’t see who. When he came back in Greg could see the gears turning in his head and he was worried.

“Look here Lestrade, the only reason I’m not expelling you is because I’ve just heard the other side of the story. You’re suspended for the rest of the day and I’m calling your mum. Next incident I won’t be so lenient.” Greg was confused but didn’t say a word, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You’re to gather your things and wait here in the office for your mum. You’re dismissed.” He waved his hand and collapsed into his chair; Greg couldn’t get out of his office fast enough.

Lestrade walked to his locker in a daze, Dimmock who had been shouting after him had to shake Greg from his thoughts.

“Hey! Christ man, what happened?” Dimmock was sounded desperate. “Everybody is talking about how you beat Dinch and his boys to a pulp!” Greg just silently twisted his combination into his lock and dug his stuff out of his locker. “Mate, you expelled?” Dimmock’s voice had gone quiet.

“No, just suspended for the day.” Greg was stuffing everything he could get his hands on into his bag.

“That’s great!” Dimmock clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t look too happy though.”

“I don’t get it--” Greg cut his sentence short when he noticed a shot of familiar red hair pass through the hall. Leaving Dimmock confused and frozen in place Greg took off, chasing the boy down.

“Oi! Wait up!” Greg ran up to him and placed a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder, when he spun around Greg quickly withdrew. The same thought he had earlier came back. _If looks could kill._ Greg once again returned to pulling at his earring; his ear was going to be bright red and irritated by the end of the day. Finally he managed to work his way up to words. “Thanks mate. I was in some serious trouble back there.” When he didn’t get a response he continued. “You and your brother alright then?”

“How was it that you knew?” Finally he had spoken. Greg could tell he was from a well off family just in the way he spoke, though he did hold himself with quite a bit of poshness too.

“What?” Now Lestrade was confused and pulling harder.

“How did you know he was my brother?” The boy’s eyes narrowed and shot to Lestrade’s ear, Greg noticing quickly shoved both hands into his pockets.

“Well I…” Greg stammered a bit. “I just noticed, you know?” That answer must have satifisfied the boy because he said nothing else. The silence between them returned but Lestrade was quick to break it. “So, what’s your name?” The boy hesitated as if debating something then spoke.

“Mycroft Holmes.” He winced a bit.

“Mycroft.” Greg said it under his breath let the name sink in a bit. “Odd but interesting.” He looked up and flashed a brilliant smile throwing the Holmes boy for a loop. “Right thanks again mate. You really helped me out back there.”

Mycroft regained composure just as fast as he lost it. “I don’t believe I know what you are talking about.” He shrugged and looked away, though only to look back when Greg laughed.

“Right I get it, anonymity and all.” Greg cleared his throat and Mycroft thought to himself that the boy wasn’t what he had thought he was. Holmes was snapped out of it when Greg clapped him on the shoulder. “Like I said if anyone gives you or your brother any trouble just let me know. I owe you one.” Lestrade smiled again and walked back the way he came.

“You’re staring brother dear.” Mycroft jumped a bit at the boy who had joined him by his side.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft rubbed at the bridged of his nose. “What are you on about brother mine?”

“He’s gay.” Sherlock shifted a bit, the first signs of boredom.

“I’ve deduced as much.” Mycroft turned around and stalked off ignoring his brother. Sherlock only shook his head and followed.

When Greg made his way back to his locker he found a very irate Dimmock shooting daggers at him with his eyes. “And what the hell was that about Lestrade?”

“Had to see a man about a dog.” Greg picked up the bag he had dropped and closed his locker.

“Don’t give me that shit, you ran after someone. Who?”

“Well aren’t we just the brightest little detective Baker Street Academy has ever seen.” Greg sneered and walked off with Dimmock in tow.

“Arse.” Dimmock nudged him and Greg pushed back laughing. Dimmock didn’t push any further, he knew once Sally heard about what had happened Greg wouldn’t be able to keep anything from them. No secrets were safe from the ever inquisitive Sally Donovan. The two friends stopped short of the main office and broke apart.

When Greg’s mum showed up she said almost nothing until they had left the building.

“Honestly Gregory.” Anne Lestrade sighed. “What were you thinking?” She turned to him and pressed for an answer. Greg lowered his head.

“They corned two boys and started calling them fags.” Greg needn’t say more, he knew his mom would understand. She had helped him through the harder times of when he was figuring out exactly who he was. When he came out to her she only hugged him and said that no matter what he would always be her little boy. Greg couldn’t have been prouder of his mother.

“Gregory, I’m proud of you for defending them but not everything can be solved with a fight.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t ever let me find out that you’ve done anything like that again.”

“Mum--” Greg was cut off immediately.

“I’m not telling you to not defend someone when it comes to it, I’m just saying don’t let me find out about it.” She smiled and continued. “I’ve to return to work so go home. Your punishment is cleaning your room. Understood?”

“Yeah.” He smiled a bit but tried to act remorseful. “Thanks Mum.”

><><>< 

Greg was back in school the next day. Having been immediately attacked by Sally, he explained everything to her and Dimmock. Between lessons and even during some lessons he had been questioned relentlessly by other students though he said nothing to them. He hadn’t even mentioned the Holmes brothers to Donovan and Dimmock. He thought it best to keep that part to himself. In an attempt to get away from all the rumors and questions Greg ducked into the library during his break. He found a chair in the back behind some shelves and viciously threw himself into it. He began tugging his ear and considered skiving the rest of the day’s lessons; he really couldn’t handle another barrage of questions. Groaning, he looked around and tried to find something to occupy himself with. The distraction came in the form of a one Mycroft Holmes. Standing Greg weaved his way over to the table the boy was sitting at.

“Hey there.” Greg gently rapped his knuckles on the table Holmes was sitting at. “Mind if I sit down?” Mycroft looked up and tried to decide if he was hallucinating or not. Slowly he nodded and Greg flashed another one of his brilliant smiles and took the seat across from him. Mycroft returned to his studying and Greg just watched. The silence between should have been awkward but both boys were surprised to find that they didn’t mind it. When Mycroft finished with the subject he had been working on he looked up and spoke.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Mycroft pushed his books aside and kept his face straight. Greg had been deep in thought because when Holmes spoke to him he nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Huh?” He shook his head hoping it would clear his mind. “Do what?”

“Pull at your piercing.” Mycroft hadn’t missed a beat. Greg froze and noticed his fingers pinching at his earlobe; quickly he dropped his hand down to his lap.

“Bad habit.” He cleared his throat and watched as Mycroft started on another subject. They both spent the rest of the period in silence. When the bell had rung Mycroft swiftly rose from his seat and packed up his books and notes.

“I believe it would be best for both of us if we weren’t to socialize with one another.” And with that he took off. Greg tried to feel offended but he understood the reasoning behind it. It also didn’t help that he was completely mesmerized by the gracefulness of Mycroft Holmes.

It took Greg only two days to fall into routine. Every break he and Mycroft would sit silently at the same table; Mycroft studying and Lestrade pulling at his earring. Sally and Dimmock had questioned him on the change but he would only shrug them off telling the not to worry. When Friday came around Lestrade decided to break their silence.

“Tonight me and a few friends are going to a party. You wanna come?” Lestrade thought his question was innocent enough but when Mycroft looked up at him he could feel his face turn five different shades of red. Mycroft watched him for a few minutes and Greg did his best not to rip his earring out.

“No.” Mycroft’s voice as soft but Greg understood the firmness of his answer.

“You’re always welcome.” With that the bell rang and this time Lestrade was fast enough to rise in sync with Mycroft. Producing a paper form what seemed like nowhere he handed it over to Mycroft. “In case you change your mind.” Mycroft took it, quickly glancing at it and instantly remembering the phone number. Lestrade was the first to leave for a change, poor Mycroft was left to stare at the paper in surprise. When he let the doors of the library close behind him he quickly turned a corner in the hallway and leaned up against the wall. His heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest.

“What’s your dilemma?” Sally had walked up to him followed by a concerned looking Dimmock who added his own question.

“You alright mate?”

“Yeah.” Greg cleared his throat and willed himself to gain control. “Yeah, I’m good.” Dimmock and Sally exchanged a look but let it drop in favor of a new topic.

“You still coming to the party tonight?” Dimmock took the left side and Sally the right; they had their next lesson together.

“Hell yes.” Greg nudged him and laughed. “Nothing could keep me from it!”

“Dinch and his mates are supposed to be there.” Sally always knew who, what, and where.

“Let ‘em. If they try to start shit I’ll fucking end it.” Greg could still feel the anger rage through him when he thought about those pricks.

><><>< 

Greg tripped about his room, having messed it up just the day after he cleaned it. He was ripping through a pile of clothes when there was a knock at his door.

“Sweetie, Nathan is here.” The door swung open and his mum tutted at the sight of her son hunched over digging through a pile of clothes. Dimmock thanked her and slipped in closing the door behind him.

“You gonna be ready any time soon?” Dimmock laughed at him and jumped onto Greg’s bed making himself comfortable.

“Shut it.” Finally finding the shirt he wanted he tugged it on and went in search of hair gel. Greg was wearing a pair of tight, dark red jeans and a Green Day shirt. He violently spiked his hair and added two black cuffs to his wrists. When he turned around he took in the sight of Dimmock who was wearing dark purple jeans and a lime green ripped up mess he called a shirt. “Come on Dim.” He laughed and tucked his cell into his back pocket.

The two boys decided to walk to the house the party was at, both knowing full well they were going to end up trashed before the night was over. It wasn’t until they got there and finished their first drinks that Lestrade noticed how much stress he had been holding onto. By his third drink he was yelling and jumping around to the music. Sally was preoccupied with Sarah and Dimmock was equally drunk but preferred to hang around the kitchen talking with a few others. Greg had gotten through five songs before he decided he needed a bit of air. Slipping away he found a quiet spot at the side of house and lit himself a cigarette. Smiling like an idiot he blew out puffs of smoke up into the air and watched them curl around themselves then disappear. He was perfectly content until Dimmock and come frantically running out to him.

“Greg! Greg, hurry!” Before he reached Greg he turned around, slipping on the grass, and ran back into the house. Lestrade crushed his cigarette and followed suit. Pushing and shouting his way through the crowded room until he found the source of everybody’s attention. Dinch and his boys, still bruised, had surrounded a familiar face.

“No one asked you to come you fucking twat!” Dinch was inches from Mycroft’s face, who didn’t look the least bit concerned. Before anything else could happen Greg stepped in.

“I did.” His voice was loud enough to spread across the room but it was clear he had been drinking.

“Lestrade.” Dinch sneered and turned to him, his cronies however took a couple steps back. “Defending your boyfriend then?” Dinch laughed but he was the only one who found it funny. Everyone knew to some extent Greg’s sexuality but no one said a word against him. He had been well respected and generally liked by everybody but it was also known that anybody who tried to go head to head with him would end up on the losing side. Greg stepped forward, putting himself between Dinch and Mycroft.

“Fuck. Off.” Lestrade may not have been the tallest but he was certainly menacing enough.

“Wanna have a go then?” Dinch was drunk and over confident and although Greg himself was inebriated it wouldn’t keep him from beating the shit out anybody who crossed him.

“Fine by me.” Greg shrugged. “Guess you didn’t learn your lesson the first time, but I’m more than willing to teach you again.” He let a wicked smile cross his face. Dinch snarled and let the first punch fly, Greg instantly blocked it but he wasn’t fast enough to see the one headed straight for his gut. Dimmock with his own incredible speed was up behind Mycroft pulling him away. Greg although doubled over in pain twisted the arm he still had a grip on and switched positions with Dinch. When Dinch screamed out Lestrade let go and landed a punch square on the other’s jaw. Unaffected Dinch swung at Greg and connected with his temple, and for the next three minutes the two went at each other with the crowd cheering them on. It wasn’t until Greg was blindsided by one of Dinch’s over confident friends that Mycroft got worried. He slipped from Dimmock’s grasp and swiftly took out the boy leaving everybody shocked. Dinch himself took a punch to the gut when he stopped to glare at Mycroft. Recovering he lunged at Holmes and got him right in the left eye. Greg, without hesitation, grabbed Dinch by the throat and let loose a few punches into the boy’s face. In a matter of seconds Dinch was on the floor out cold and bleeding, with Greg standing over him. And in that moment everybody got the message: Mycroft Holmes was protected by Greg Lestrade.

Sally was beside Greg urging him away; she had to practically push him toward the front door. Dimmock himself was beside Mycroft though he didn’t need much motivation to leave. Once outside Greg broke away from Donovan and headed straight for Mycroft. Gently he lifted his and up and ran his thumb just along the edge of the bruise that was rapidly making itself home on Mycroft’s left eye.

“Shit.” Greg cursed himself and focused on turning Mycroft’s head side to side looking for any more damage. Mycroft gave up and let himself melt into Greg’s touch. Satisfied that no other damage had occurred he dropped his hand to Mycroft’s wrist and gently grabbed hold of him. Lestrade pulled him away calling back to Sally and Dimmock. “You guys go home; I’m taking off with Mycroft.” Greg dragged Mycroft along behind him but he was quick to match pace with Lestrade. Soon they were walking side by side but Greg left his hand gently on Mycroft’s wrist. When they got a block away Greg let go and sank down onto the side walk, burying his face in his hands. Mycroft himself was lost in thought and didn’t know what to do least of all what to say, so he just simply stood in front of Lestrade and patiently waited.

Greg didn’t know how many minutes had passed but when he looked up and found Mycroft’s expectant eyes on him he nearly lost all resolve.

“I’m….” He searched for words. “I’m so sorry. Please….” He trailed off. He looked down at his hands that were bloody and cut open, he settled for wiping them on his pants then proceeded to wipe the blood from this broken lip and thankfully not-broken nose on his shirt. “Fuck.” He cursed when he bumped his lip the wrong way. Giving up he stood and looked Mycroft in the eye. “I’m really sorry Mycroft. I should have gotten him before he got you. Please…” Mycroft remained silent and Lestrade wondered if he should beg for forgiveness. This time Mycroft was the one who reached out, he gently wiped away a trickle of blood that had escaped from Greg’s lip.

“I’ve a place where you can clean and sober up.” And with that he turned on his heel and raised his hand, completely confused by his actions Greg stood watching the scene unfold with his jaw practically on the pavement. Quietly a sleek, black car had pulled out of the shadows and up to the two boys. When Mycroft opened the door and motioned for Greg to get in he complied for lack of being able to think of anything else. The rode in silence for what seemed like an hour but was really only twenty minutes, and when the car pulled up outside a flat and both boys got out. 


	2. With A Routine

When the mysterious black car pulled away Greg just stared Mycroft down.

“What the hell was that?”

“Derek, my personal driver.” Mycroft looked at him like he was stupid for even asking in the first place. Pulling a set of keys from a pocket the Holmes boy climbed the few steps there were up to the front door and unlocked it. Greg, again with no other option, followed him in. When the wound their way through the flat and into the kitchen Lestrade fell into the first seat he happened across. Despite his exhaustion catching up his mind had gone into overdrive. Mycroft really was as posh as he acted. Greg could look around tell the boy had been well off all his life.

“You live alone?” It was the first of many questions he had for Mycroft.

“No, this is my personal flat. I convinced my mother to purchase it for me as a means to get away from our home and study in peace.” Mycroft busied himself with pulling apart a first aid kit and gathering everything he needed.

“Right.” Greg took it for what it was and moved on, something he had always been good at. “You came to the party.”

“I did.” Mycroft winched when he spun around to turn off the kettle Greg hadn’t noticed he put on.

“How did you know where it was?” Greg felt a bit of disappointment that the boy hadn’t called him

“I’ve my own set of skills Gregory.” Again Lestrade thought it best to take things at face value and he just nodded.

“I’m sorry. If I had known I would have…..” Greg trailed off; he actually hadn’t known what he would have done.

“You needn’t apologize Gregory; this is not my first black eye. Sherlock has been the cause of many.” He made two teas and carried everything over to Lestrade on a tray.

“That was bloody good shot you took though!” Greg smiled and instantly regretted it, his lip had torn open and he began to bleed again.

“I can hold my own in a fight.” Mycroft pulled a chair up in front of Lestrade. “Hold still.” Lestrade watched as Mycroft cleaned his wounds and tried to imagine him in a fight. If he was blushing Mycroft made no move at pointing it out. When he finished cleaning up Greg’s face he moved onto his hands. This time it was Mycroft who blushed when he took hold of Greg’s hand and dabbed at the knuckles. Greg only smiled as he watched the boy try and will the blush away. When he finished he quickly stood up and excused himself under the pretense of making a phone call home, leaving Greg to look around the kitchen. When he opened the refrigerator door his stomach screamed out bloody murder, he hadn’t noticed he was hungry but then again drunken fights could make a person forget a few things. Without thinking he pulled out the necessary ingredient and set about making a pair of omelets. Mycroft had returned just as he had served them up onto two plates that took him six tries to find.  

“Culinary skills.” What was meant as an inner thought hand escaped Mycroft’s lips which only added to the surprise on his face.

Greg shrugged. “My Mum’s cooking is shit and I love to eat. Something had to give.” Lestrade looked around and sighed at the sheer amount of drawers he would have to search for the silverware.

“Next counter, three from the left.” Mycroft took the plates from him and placed them on the island that was in the middle of kitchen. Lestrade grabbed two forks and took one stool on one side, Mycroft taking the other on the other side. They ate in silence and all of it reminded Greg of the time they spent in the library. When the finished Mycroft thanked him and cleared the dishes away, including the two cups of untouched tea still sitting on the far table. Greg turned his back to the island and leaned back, propping his elbows up on it.

“Full of surprises you are.” Lestrade smiled and watched him bustle about the kitchen.

“Says the punk with exceptional cooking skills.” Mycroft had to admit that he was impressed with Gregory Lestrade. Aside from Sherlock he hadn’t met anyone who could keep up with him but Greg hadn’t missed too much.

“Oi! I never said I wasn’t, I only said you were.” He chuckled a bit; Mycroft found he wasn’t opposed to the sound at all.

“Fair enough Gregory.” Turning around Mycroft mirrored Lestrade and leaned up against the counter opposite from Greg.

“Only my Mum calls me that.” He was still smiling but his eyes were fully concentrated on the Mycroft Holmes.

“Do you not wish to be called that?”

“No, s’alright. I don’t mind.” He cleared his throat and hoped once again he wasn’t blushing like a fool, his nervousness showed in that his hand shot up to his earring and he began tugging at it. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Mycroft watching Greg and Greg looking everywhere but at Mycroft.

“You are welcome to stay the night if you wish. I doubt your mother would appreciate you crashing through the house at one in the morning.” Greg search for a clock and when he found one he let out an exhausted laugh.

“I only _‘crash about’_ when I’m completely drunk. Most of that has worn off by now.” Letting go of his ear he rubbed that back of his neck and stretched until it cracked. “Thank you.”

“There is a guest bedroom next to my own and I’m sure I can find you some spare clothes.” Mycroft shifted a bit.

“You don’t have to you know.” When Mycroft only gave him a questioning look he continued. “You can kick me out if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Why would I do such a thing Gregory?” Lestrade hid a shiver that traveled down his spine when he heard Mycroft say his name.

“I am the reason you got that, after all.” He gestured to Mycroft’s black eye, half amazed that it was only bruised and not swelling shut.

“Yes but only because you ended up like that,” Mycroft nodded in his direction. “in my defense.”

“Thanks again.” Greg went back to pulling on his ear and Mycroft only hummed in response. Another few minutes of silence passed between them only this time it was more comfortable. Mycroft was soon to break it though.

“You can shower and change. I’ll show you the way.” Walking off he did just as he said he would and even handed Greg a change of clothes, simple black t-shirt and a tan pair of slacks. Before leaving Greg to his privacy he told him he’d be down in the den and told him how to find it. Graceful as ever he turned on his heel and walked away, Greg let himself watch Mycroft walk away before receding into the lavish bathroom.  

Greg made quick work of taking his clothes off, wincing as he stretched in awkward ways. He stood in front the mirror and took in all the bruises that had started forming; his face wasn’t the only thing that had taken a beating. Sighing he took a few minutes to figure out how the shower worked then let himself melt away under the hot water. When he finished he stumbled out and quickly dressed, trying to keep the cold away. Looking the mirror again he hummed; he cleaned up nice. Following the instructions he got earlier he easily found Mycroft who was spread across a couch watching television, though only half heartedly.

When Lestrade cleared his throat Mycroft turned around and did his best not to choke. The shirt was a bit tighter than what the thought it would be, although he couldn’t complain. It perfectly accentuated the muscles in Lestrade’s chest and arms. Swallowing the lump in his throat he turned back toward the telly and cleared some room on the sofa so Lestrade could sit down. Greg was quick to catch that look on Mycroft’s face, pleased that Holmes had seemed to like what he saw. For the next hour and half the two silently watched television together and both couldn’t have been more content. It was nearly four in the morning when Mycroft lead Greg to the guest bedroom and they said their goodnights. Though it was much later when both had actually fallen asleep, both in their respective beds thinking about the night and its events.

><><><

Lestrade woke to the violent ringing of his phone, when he sleepily checked the caller ID he shot up out of bed and the memories of the previous night came flooding back. He threw a hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep a growl from coming out. Quickly he pulled himself together and answered the call

“Mum.” His voice was rough and still heavy with sleep.

“Gregory Lestrade!” He had to pull the phone away from his ear to keep from going deaf. “I raised you better than this young man!”

“Sorry.” Greg pleaded with her. “Things ran a bit late and I crashed at…..” _Shit_. He thought to himself. “At Dimmock’s” Another quick recovery.

“And in the throes of last night’s carrying about you couldn’t call me?!” She had calmed down a bit but was still shouting.

“I’m really sorry Mum.” When she didn’t say anything he continued. “Really I am!” When she sighed he knew he was forgiven but he had begun to feel bad about lying.

“I’m off to work, call me when you intend to come home or if you don’t.”

“Yes Mum. I’m sorry.” Greg felt another pang of remorse, his Mum was unbelievably understanding.

“I love you, stay safe.”

“You too Mum, bye.” And with that he hung up, rubbed a hand across his face, and groaned. He checked the clock on his phone; 6 a.m. _Great_ , he thought to himself, _only two hours of sleep_. Giving up he threw the covers aside and decided to check if Mycroft had woken up. Checking the den and the kitchen he found nothing and assumed the boy had slept in, lucky git.

Lost on what to do he paced about the kitchen a bit and then decided to make breakfast. Greg had found a radio in one of the cabinets and had it sitting on the island playing a rock n’ roll station; dancing about widely, he made a meal just as posh as the flat he was in. Greg had gotten through the chorus of one of his favorite songs when he heard a bit of stifled laughter coming from the doorway. All but jumping out of his skin he dropped, a thankfully empty, skillet on the floor and turned wide-eyed to the source of the laughter.

“I’m pleased you have made yourself at home in _my_ flat.” Mycroft was in a pair of tan slacks himself and a light yellow shirt. At first Greg was frozen in place because he had gotten caught rocking out in the kitchen but then the reason had quickly slipped onto the fact that a sleepy, disheveled Mycroft Holmes was rather handsome. His clothes may have been crisp but the rest of him was as equally exhausted as Greg had been when he had woken up. Quickly dropping down to pick up the skillet he stumbled his way through apologies.

“I just thought I would make….make a bit of breakfast.” Greg looked between Mycroft and the food and tried to smile.

“No need to apologize Gregory.” Mycroft clapped his hands together. “And what is on the menu Chef.” Greg blushed and nearly dropped the skillet again. He stumbled his way through an explanation and laid everything out on the island. When he finished they took the same places they hand the night before and ate in content silence. This time when they finished Greg had helped Mycroft clear things up. Without a word between them the migrated to the den and turned on the television, taking the same spots on the couch as they had before.

“It seems we’ve fallen into a bit of a routine.” Mycroft had lowered the volume during a commercial.

Greg snorted. “Something we’re both good at.”

“Indeed.” To anyone else that would have been just some vague attempt a small talk but between the two of them they had had a silent conversation. The gist of it being that they had both in some way fancied one another and the other could tell. With that we returned to watching television and neither moved until noon. Greg cooked lunch and instead of silence they had easily slipped into conversation.

Mycroft lifted a potato wedge to his lips and said. “I haven’t had too many meals like this.” Greg looked up and noticed a certain look in the boy’s eyes, instantly he understood.

“You’ve a lot of formal meals?” Greg looked down at his plate and pushed a bit of food around. Mycroft smiled at the thought of how easily Greg could pick up on what he was saying and feeling.

“Everything is formal with my family.”

“You spend a lot of time here?” Mycroft’s smile grew, Greg was quick.

“I do, yes.” Noticed the smile and stared at Mycroft for a moment.

“And that brother of yours?” Greg looked away.

“He has stayed here a few times, yes. However this is mostly _my_ sanctuary.” Greg didn’t know why he chuckled but he did and Mycroft’s eyebrow shot up in confusion.

Greg was cleared his throat “Invite a lot of beaten boys in?” He wasn’t laughing but the smile was still there.

“I’m afraid you’re only one Gregory.” And like that the two them continued. Greg would ask questions and Mycroft would answer, and vice versa. They had stayed like that long after they finished eating but neither noticed, both we too wrapped up in the new information they were taking in about one another. The shared a few common interests but not many and despite their differences they enjoyed each other’s company. It wasn’t until 5 p.m. had come around that they had fallen into silence.

“I should…..should probably go.” Greg scratched at the back of his head and took interest in the tiling of the floor.

“You are more than welcome to stay.”

“What?” Greg’s head snapped up and he looked Mycroft straight in the eye.

Mycroft cursed himself and then quickly came up with an excuse. “Your mother would most likely be worried if you went home looking like that. You could stay the night and return Sunday evening, at least by then some of the bruising will have gone down.”

“Right….yeah. I mean if….if you don’t mind.” Greg got that look again.

“I wouldn’t have offered Gregory, if I had minded.” Mycroft sweetened it with a smile and was glad Greg hadn’t questioned him further.

Sunday had been spent much the same, just the two boys lounging about the flat. When they were watching television in the den Greg had leaned his back against Mycroft’s side and stretched his legs out along the rest of the couch. Mycroft could only revel in the heat Greg hand thrown off; he could feel the stupid smile creep across his face.

“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice had come out as just a whisper.

“Sorry. I can move if you want?” Greg sat up only to be pulled back down.

“No, don’t.” Mycroft froze; he hadn’t thought about what he did, he just did it. Confused Mycroft tried to stammer his way through some excuse, which only made Greg break out in laughter.

“How about this?” Lestrade adjusted his position and when he finally stopped moving his head was lightly resting on Mycroft’s thigh. Greg flashed his wild smile; he knew exactly what he was doing. Mycroft, whose face was buried in his hand, did his best not to whimper.

“You progress rather fast I see.” Mycroft hadn’t taken his hand away from his face; he knew exactly what Greg was doing too. Lestrade only hummed, sending vibrations through both of their bodies. A silent conversation had travelled between them, one of acceptance. When they had finished they both settled back into their lazy Sunday, Lestrade with his head on Mycroft’s lap and Mycroft’s hand running through Greg’s tousled hair.

When the time came for Greg to leave both boys hid their disappointment. Both thought Sunday had passed much too fast. And both absolutely did not smile like fools when Greg kissed Mycroft quickly before ducking into car Mycroft had promised would take him home. They promised to meet one another in the library the following day. When Greg had gotten home he was questioned by his mum as to why he had so many cuts and bruises but he only said it was the result of a scuffle with his mates. Shaking her head she let him go to his room where he spent the rest of the night smiling to himself like a nutter.

><><>< 

It was early when Greg pulled into the carpark on Wednesday, he and Mycroft had kept to their meetings each day and it made Greg feel a whole lot better about showing up for school. Sally and Dimmock although suspicious of something had taken the answers Greg had given them Monday when they asked about the Friday before. Sally had a pretty good idea about what was going on and had let Dimmock in on it, though they agreed not to press it until Greg himself had brought it up. It became routine; Sally and Dimmock danced around the change they saw in their friend, Greg didn’t notice their concern, and he and Mycroft met every day during break in the library.

It had been about two weeks since Greg had stayed at Mycroft’s private flat. And when break came around on that day Greg all but ran to the library, leaving Sally and Dimmock behind to question his motives as usual. When he walked through the doors he took a breath and willed himself to calm down, all the while swiftly navigating back to their table. Greg stopped between shelves when that thought has crossed his mind. _When exactly had it become **their**_ _table?_  However when he got to it he was immediately disappointed, Mycroft hadn’t shown up. Distressed Greg wandered out to the smoker’s corner behind the West Hall, finding Sally and Dimmock already there.

“No secret meeting today?” Sally hid her concern but Dimmock was looking at Greg like he was bomb about to go off.

“No.” Greg pulled a cigarette out of the pack Sally had offered and let her light it for him.

“What’s been going on?” Donovan decided it was best to take a more direct route. “Where have you been going these past few days?” When Greg looked up he realized that she had made a fairly good guess but wanted to hear about it from him. When Lestrade didn’t answer she continued. “You’ve been with that Mycroft Holmes, haven’t you? You and him a thing now? It’s okay you know, you can tell us. Hell you can even bring him around, we don’t mind.” Again Greg didn’t answer; he just took another drag of his cigarette and let his thoughts roam. _What are he and Mycroft exactly?_

“You gonna be okay mate?” Dimmock had stepped forward and gently touched Lestrade shoulders, the touch however light it was snapped him out of his thoughts and made him jump. Both Dimmock and Sally had taken a step back and when Greg looked up he noticed the very worried looks on their faces. Sighing he finished his cigarette and then decided it was best to tell them everything. He described the weekend he had spent at Mycroft’s flat and all the meetings they had in the library and when he finished he rubbed his hands through this hair leaving it as disheveled as his mind was. Dimmock however put a voice to the thought was lingering in the back of his mind.

“You’ve got a crush mate!” Dimmock smiled and clapped a hand on Lestrade’s shoulder blade. Greg cringed but not at the hit he had just received.

“Easy Dim. I don’t even think _he_ realizes it yet.” Sally’s tone was soft.

“Just now actually.” Greg’s smile was weak at best. All three skived the rest of their lessons and spent the time discussing Greg’s sudden epiphany. I wasn’t until they made their way through the carpark at the end of the day that they learned about what had happened earlier. Dinch went after Mycroft. The story varied person to person so Greg ignored the details and only concerned himself with the fact that Dinch _had_ gone after Mycroft. Lestrade tore out of the carpark on his bike, all but running over the people who had gotten in his way.

It took him two hours to remember his way back to Mycroft’s flat but he had managed to find it and that was all that mattered. The sun had begun to set when Lestrade stood on the door step of Mycroft’s flat, he was raging a war within himself and when he finally had gotten the courage to knock, the door had flew open and he very nearly punched a disgruntled looking Sherlock Holmes in the face.

“I….I um….” Lestrade mind had all but shut down.

“You’ve come to speak with my brother.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes and Greg only nodded. “Well you can’t.”

“What? Why not?” The gift of language had suddenly come back to him. “Is he okay?”

“Forget about my brother Gregory Lestrade.” Sherlock had spit his name out like it was poison. “You’ve caused him nothing but trouble.” Sherlock began to close the door but Greg threw out a hand to stop it.

“Look……kid…just tell him I’m sorry, yeah? Tell him I…..tell him I’m worried and that I really need to talk to him. Please?” Greg resolved to get on his knees and beg if he had to. Rolling his eyes Sherlock only nodded and then closed the door.

Walking back into the kitchen Sherlock stopped at the steps and listened for any sign that his brother had woken up, finding none he kept walking and returned to his experiment.

><><>< 

It had been three days and neither the Holmes brothers nor Michael Dinch had returned to school. The rumors had become ridiculous and Greg all but attacked anybody who had tried to talk to him about, save Sally and Dimmock.

It was when the three of them were standing behind West Hall cigarettes lit but ignored, that things had come to a boiling point.

“Fuck!” Greg threw his cigarette down and winced as he bit his lip. “Jesus fucking christ!” Dimmock and Sally froze.

“Greg, mate.” Dimmock stepped forward and crushed the fallen cigarette with his tip of his shoe.

“I have to go.” Greg scowled, turned around and stalked off. Dimmock would have gone after him if Sally hadn’t stopped him.

“He’s to work this out on own Dim.” They watched him storm out of the carpark on his bike and could only hope for the best. Greg let his bike weave through the traffic feeling the push of the motor drown out his thoughts. When his bike stopped he looked up and understood exactly where the thoughts he wasn’t supposed to be thinking had taken him. Without hesitation he parked his bike, opened the front door, and immediately headed for the den.

“Oi!” Greg was standing just behind the couch Mycroft had rocketed off of in surprise.

“Gregory!” Mycroft now scrambling frantically to straighten himself out was wide-eyed. Greg rounded the couch and Mycroft only backed away from him. “What the hell is all this business about you ignoring me?” For a few minutes to two of them stood across from each other exchanging glances. Greg thought his anger was justified but Mycroft’s look of confusion was slowing clawing away at his resolve. Mycroft was quick to catch up and in a matter of seconds he understood what had happened.

“My brother spoke to you.” It wasn’t a question and Greg could see the frustration crawl across Mycroft’s face. “What was he said to exactly? To keep away? That I didn’t want to speak with you?” Mycroft ruffled his hair and growled.

“I…..” Greg was trying his best to keep up but he was falling short. “He…..”

“I sorry Gregory, I assumed it was you who had begun to ignore me. It seems my brother manipulated the situation. He can be a bit protective at times.” Greg just stared and let everything swirl around him, it took him a while but he finally put the pieces together. Sherlock took advantage of their break in communication and twisted so both believed the other didn’t want to speak with them.

“Is he here?” Greg was determined to give the little brat a piece of his mind. Another thought had crossed his mind as well; the Holmes brothers were a force to be reckoned with. Lestrade noticed that Mycroft was completely unscathed but the rumors going around the academy had all insisted that Dinch and Mycroft had gotten into a fight. Greg could easily bet it was Mycroft who did the beating.

“No, I had sent him home after he nearly blew up my kitchen.” Mycroft had said it as if it had been something completely normal and when Greg gave him a questioning look Mycroft only waved the subject away. Greg let himself fall down onto the couch; he desperately needed to stop thinking. His brain was running circles around itself. He scraped his hands through his hair and froze when he realized something; everything was okay between them.

“Why haven’t you been in school?” He looked up and saw Mycroft staring at him.

“The school has been lit a fire with rumors and I detest such attention. I decided it best to continue my lessons from home for a while.” Mycroft sat down next to him.

“You could have called me you know. Said something……anything.” Greg looked over and searched for something, Mycroft knew exactly what it was.

“Gregory.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “This is not something I commonly find myself involved in.” Another silent conversation passed between them, one of confessions and permission.

Mycroft was on his back spread across the couch with Lestrade on top of him taking his time exploring Mycroft’s mouth. Lestrade had his hands wrapped around the sides of Mycroft’s head and Mycroft had his firmly pressed into Greg’s hips. When Greg adjusted his position Mycroft froze and Gregory instantly knew why.

“I can fix that.” Lestrade voice was breathless in Mycroft’s ear making him moan. Greg gently moved and smiled wickedly when Mycroft threw his head back and arched his back. Together they fell into a rhythm of rocking hips and sloppy kisses. Mycroft was the first to fall over the edge but Greg was quick to jump over after him. For minutes that felt like hours they laid there on the couch wrapped impossibly tight around one another. The warmth was overwhelming and they were on the edge of sleep.

“That was embarrassing.” Mycroft was the first to break the comfortable silence and Greg shot up in response. “Calm down.” Holmes grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled the boy back onto him. “I enjoyed every bit of you.” He kissed Greg like the boy was about to disappear and never return. “But next time I think it best if we not do it fully dressed.” Greg felt the blush run from his head to his toes and a hand reached up to tug on his piercing. _Mycroft Holmes wanted a ‘next time’. He and Mycroft Holmes had just…..just…_ His thoughts trailed off and he tugged harder on his ear. “Stop thinking and stop pulling on that piercing.” Mycroft crane upwards and bit down on Greg’s earlobe, licking his way around the little piece of metal. Greg moaned when he thought about what else that tongue could do. Mycroft laughed and pulled away. “We should probably clean up.” Greg could argue.

The two boys suffered their way through the awkward walk to bathroom. Mycroft passed Greg a set of clothes and sent him on his way while Mycroft took off towards his own bathroom. Cleaned up they reconvened in the kitchen and Greg made them dinner.

“Shit.” Greg dropped his head and contemplated stabbing himself with his fork.

“What’s wrong Gregory?” Mycroft reached over noticing the tense hand wrapped around the fork soon to turn deadly weapon.

“I need to call my Mum.” Greg whimpered a bit and Mycroft choked back a fit of laughter.

“You’re a bad influence Gregory.”

“And you’re shameless.” Greg smiled and Mycroft blushed five shades of red. Greg walked out to deal with his mostly likely rabid mother. When he finished and returned to the kitchen he found Mycroft leaning against the counter trying to scrub some sauce out of his shirt. Greg stifled his laughter and swooped up behind him pulling the boy into him.

“Gregory!” Mycroft startled and tried to escape but Greg only held on tighter and laughed.

“My Mum wants to meet you.” Mycroft whipped and around and went wide-eyed. “She’s been suspicious so I kind of had to tell her, now she wants to………well meet you.” Greg backed up and his smile started to fade. “I mean you….we don’t have to. We….I mean…..if you….” Greg quickly snapped his mouth shut and went about tugging his earring out.

“Gregory.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and gently reached out tugging Greg’s hand away from his ear. “Stop that. Of course I would be delighted to meet your mother.”

“It just…..we haven’t really talked about…” Greg waved between them. Mycroft took a moment to think and Greg let him. After what seemed like ages Mycroft stepped forward and claimed Greg’s mouth for his own.

“Boyfriends Gregory, I believe that’s the correct terminology.” Greg snorted and grabbed Mycroft by the shirt pulling him back down into a chaste kiss. It wasn't long until they decided to take it further. After some heavy snogging they picked themselves up off the kitchen floor and continued with dinner while stopping every so often to break into fits of laughter. It wasn’t long until they became the Oncoming Storm of Baker Street Academy, Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks sooo~ much to sticking through this with me! I really do hope you liked it!


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